Water as Red as Roses
by RawrTheSecond
Summary: When something tragic happens to England, changing all the nation's lives; will America be able to cope?
1. Chapter 1

A/N: Thanks for reading! Well, I'm absolutely a newbie at this sort of thing, but oh well… anyway, tell me what you think! This story was inspired by this weird dream I had the other night. UK/UK pairing, so don't like it don't read it! Rated teen for some swears and, of course, for precautionary sakes. I do not, and though I wish to will never own Hetalia and make a thousand dollars a day.

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><p><span>Water as Red as Roses<span>

Chapter 1

Darkness. That was all that Arthur could see, hear and feel. It surrounded him like a blanket. A cold, demonic blanket to be precise. He tried to fight off the darkness, but it was so powerful, so thick, that it could not be fought. It slowly devoured him, bit by bit, leaving just nothingness behind. Arthur knew, in the back of his mind, that it should have hurt. There should have been some sort of feeling, yet there was nothing. Absolutely nothing.

The official-looking men sat upright at a long desk. Each had a different look upon their face. A little Italian smiled happily, eyes closed, face pointed towards a tall, burly looking man with a kind but stern expression on his pale face, while a flirty French man and a shaking Canadian had a one-sided conversation. A group of Asians merrily chatted, and near the back a disturbing looking man with a thick, cream scarf sat, his smile not really reaching his pale violet eyes. All was well, each nation relatively cheery. All but one.

A tall blonde man sat quietly in the front, his clear, sky-blue eyes squinted in a look of confusion and worry. His normally peppy, loud voice that would normally boom around the room talking about some ridiculous accomplishment or idea was silent.

"Alfred?" A peppy voice called out from behind him.

"Hum?" the American asked, turning around in his hard wood chair to face the Spaniard standing behind him.

"¿Estás bien? Are you okay?" He asked, his deep, wide chocolate eyes looking over the American in fatherly concern.

"Oh, I'm fine!" Said man laughed in his loud voice. The Spanish man looked at him sternly.

"Don't lie, mi amigo." He said in a serious tone. Alfred sighed.

"Well, I just noticed that England wasn't here…" the exasperated American said. "He's always so on top of things, and if he can't make one of these meetings he'd call ahead of time. I'm not worried or anything, uh, I'm just curious. Have you seen him?" Alfred asked with a voice full of hidden anguish. The Spaniard peered around the room.

"No, I don't see your British friend… have you tried calling him?" Antonio asked.

"Yep, I've tried." Alfred sighed and smiled at the Spaniard. "Thanks for your concern!" He bellowed and turned away.

"No hay problema, mi amigo." The tan man said and walked away, a cheery stride in his step, to an annoyed-looking, short Italian in the corner.

"Where are you, Arthur?" Alfred murmured under his breath, "Where are you?"

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><p>Thanks for reading! I have big plans for this story! And where is Arthur…? Sorry for the short chapter!<p> 


	2. Chapter 2

A/N: Wow, late update, I know! I was just so excited and I practically never have free time, so I just had to post the next chapter, but then I wrote it and never got to posting it… Also, thanks for pointing out the Uk/Uk pairing mistake. It's _supposed_ to say Us/Uk. Oh well! Anyway, hope you enjoy! I do not own Alfred and/or Arthur and never will.

Water as Red as Roses

Chapter 2

The tall blonde padded across the room in his soft socks, deep in thought. His normally cheerful expression distorted in a mixture of worry, sadness, and loneliness.

"Where could he be..?" Alfred said to himself, trying to recall the last time he had seen his little blonde mentor. But, for some reason, whenever he thought he got closer to an answer, it seemed to slip out of his grasp like a delicate feather in the wind.

"Ugh!" he, exasperated, sighed, plopping down in a worn leather recliner in defeat. He peered up at the ceiling, hoping somehow that the answer to his question may sit up there, written onto the high ceilings in his comfy home. It wasn't.

Turning on the TV, Alfred couldn't stop thinking about Arthur. It seemed every channel he flipped to, something reminded him of that British man. Even the shopping channel wasn't safe, he found himself thinking of Arthur's home and all his nice things.

"Wait… Arthur's house..." The American mumbled to himself before he shot up_. I_ _know! _Alfred thought, gathering up his belongings and running upstairs to put on something nicer than just a baggy white t-shirt and grass-stained, torn blue jeans. He was about to step out the door when he realized something.

"Where _is_ London, England?" He asked himself, standing at the doorway of his home, about to leave to go to Arthur's house.

Sighing, Alfred returned inside and quickly woke up his brand new computer, looking up where England's whereabouts may be.

"It's that far away?" The exasperated American wailed, throwing up his arms in defeat. Then, he reached for the phone to dial the Airport.

_Who am I? What am I doing here? _The man pondered, cool air breezing around him. Though he could not feel, or see a thing, he knew that he was real and alive. _Or am I? _The Briton asked no one in particular. His whole body was numb, his deeper mind somehow still conscious. The blonde tried to take deep breaths but still felt as though there wasn't enough oxygen in his body.

Suddenly, the Briton felt a searing pain shoot all across his body, the stabbing feeling doubling up at his head. Arthur tried to scream, cry, grip his head, or do something, but his body was unresponsive. The dark, black jail that was his body held him tight, making it nearly impossible for the British man to breath. In pure agony, Arthur had one thought before completely passing out.

_Is this the end?_

Alfred anxiously fidgeted in the stiff airplane seat, with nothing to do. He felt as bored as a kid is math class, the teacher droning on and on about the "joys" of fractions. He felt as bored as a teen waiting in a line a mile long to get the iPhone 4s. He felt as bored as… well, you get the idea.

After carefully inspecting each expensive and pointless shopping magazine and little booklet in the pocket of the seat in front of him, the exasperated American quietly groaned.

"This is going to be a long flight." Alfred muttered.

After taking a little nap, the frazzled blonde woke up to the loud voice of the pilot booming over the intercom.

"Looks like we're about to land in London, England! Please fasten your seatbelts, store your trays in the upright position..."

_ "Finally!" _The American yelled, then flushing, covered up his mouth after receiving many funny looks.

The cheery flight attendants smiled at the sleepy blonde tripping unceremoniously out of the stuffy plane. _Thank god! _He thought, finally stepping outside after fast-walking through the entire airport and struggling through the worst baggage fight of the century. Impatiently hailing a taxi, the American waited, looking up at the sky in confusion.

"I thought it was daytime…?" Alfred sighed tiredly at the clear starry night sky. _Well, I'm not going to go barge into Iggy's house in the middle of the night, might as well get a hotel room_. The American thought. After having a bit of an argument with a taxi driver about how he was "driving on the wrong side", Alfred finally arrived at a dingy old hotel that was as cheap as dirt to stay at for one night.

"It…won't…open!" Alfred cried, pulling at the slimy, dusty doorknob to his room. After pulling and pushing on the door for at least two minutes, the door finally popped opened with a bang, sending dust and splinters everywhere. Coughing, Alfred waved his hand in the air, dust swirling around him.

"No way." America groaned, looking at the inside of the room. The hideous pink wallpaper peeled off the moldy, stained, dark walls. Blackish spots Alfred assumed were due to the fact of the dripping sound of water coming from the corner of the room sat speckled along the ceiling. The ratty carpet was so disgusting that there was practically an inch of dirt and dried mud caked on top of it. Then Alfred noticed that in the corner of the room there was a large dark red stain on the once-white carpet. He hastily turned away, not wanting to think where _that_ came from. And just as he was about to jump onto the dust covered bed, a greasy black rat scurried out from under the bed, beady little red eyes peering up at the American.

Alfred didn't sleep that night.

Thanks for reading! Read, comment, and do whatever!


	3. Chapter 3

A/N: yeah, uh, sorry about not updating for awhile… I've just been so busy with all this upcoming holiday crap, I haven't really felt motivated. Well, here 'ya go, enjoy!

Also, what England's house looks like was just sort of a guess. I tried to look up what it looked like but couldn't find anything…

Oh well.

Water as Red as Roses

Chapter 3

Alfred groaned at the sudden nock at the door to the grimy hotel. His arm draped lazily over the rickety wooden chair leaning up against his head. Rubbing his light blue eyes, he pushed himself off his dusty red, white and blue suitcase and stumbled to the door. Pulling it open, he saw a very large, scraggly looking person, who he guessed was a woman. A huge black mole resided on her cheek and Alfred couldn't help staring at it.

_Are moles even supposed to grow that big?_ The blonde pondered in his head before the chubby lady snapped her beefy fingers in his pale face.

"Ehe. You awake?" The woman growled in an unusually deep voice. Alfred winces as a little fleck of spit hit him on the cheek.

"Ew-Uh, I mean, yeah. I'm good." He sighed and rubbed his baggy eyes, adjusting his glasses ever so slightly. She pointed her stubby finger out the door and mumbled something incoherent. The blonde took this as a signal to get the heck out of the grimy motel and quickly hurried away from the beefy woman in her filthy puke green dress.

Alfred stumbled out of the motel and sighed. "Why am I here again?" he pondered, his brain still not fully awake yet. He was hungry, and tired, and just wanted to go home.

"Home…wait a second… IGGY!" Alfred yelled, his eyes finally opening and he dashed off, yelling something about heroes and villains and how he'd save his furry-browed friend.

Panting, America sat down on a tan curb. He didn't like admitting to these things, but he realized that he was completely and utterly lost. _Now if only I had a map… _The blonde huffed, and then smacked himself on the head. "Wait, I have a map…" he laughed and pulled out the crumpled sheet of paper in his blue jeans. Studying it for a second, he stood up and looked around.

"Ah! Here we go!" Alfred exclaimed, earning some pointed stares from a few couples wandering about on the sun-lit street.

The blonde pulled along his red, white and blue suitcase in a rush, his hair sticking up at odd angles and Nantucket swaying in the slight England breeze. The sun beat down on his dark brown bomber jacket, though cold air blew all around him. His light blue eyes skimmed over the map as he announced to no one in particular "It should be…here!"

The tall, regal-looking tan mansion sat at the top of a wooded hill, a beautiful, well-kept garden of bright flowers wrapped around the large home.

"Artie… gardens!" America laughed at the mental image of Arthur in a fancy, frilly apron, tending to petunias and pansies. He rolled his carry-on up the cobblestone driveway, up to the tall, oak, ornately carved doors. He lifted up the cute doormat and felt around for the little key Arthur always kept there. His hand closed in a fist around the small, golden key.

"Artie? Hello? Yo, you here?" America called out, his head peeking inside the large, dark hallway. He stepped slowly through the door and secured it behind him.

"Artieeee! Where are you?" Alfred called, his eyes slowly adjusting to the darkness. No one answered him.

"Geez, your place is creepy…" America muttered under his breath, padding quickly through the long, dark halls.

"A-artie?" America called out, hearing a small crashing sound. "Was that you?"

_Sshhh! _The fairy glared at the little green mint bunt hovering around a broken vase.

_Sorry! I'm just trying to get him to find Arthur!_ The bunny hissed in its high-pitched voice.

_Oh. Know anything else we could break….?_ The pink pixie pondered, flitting about.

_Yeah. Come on. _The mint bunny laughed and flew off, the little pixie following closely behind him.

"H-hello?" Alfred stuttered, hearing more breaking sounds coming from the left hallway. He followed the scary sounds and soon saw a room with a dim light on, the pale glow peeking out eerily from under the door.

"Artie?" America called, right in front of the door. "You in here?" He asked. A faint sound of water running could be heard from underneath the door.

Suddenly, Alfred heard a crash from inside the room.

"ARTHUR?" America yelled and yanked the door open.

I'm so cruel leaving it there. Mweeheeeheee….


	4. Chapter 4

A/N: Yay! New chapter! It's short, though. As all my other chapters are. I know I killed you all with that cliffhanger, so I found a little time to update. I've been waiting to write this chapter, so let's see what Arthur has in store…

P.S. This chapter is not for those who are disgusted by wounds. Just wanted to say that.

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><p>"Artie?" America called, right in front of the door. "You in here?" He asked. A faint sound of water running could be heard from underneath the door.<p>

Suddenly, Alfred heard a crash from inside the room.

"ARTHUR?" America yelled and yanked the door open.

Alfred stood in the doorway to the large bathroom, frozen to the spot. The bathtub water was running at a steady pace, and he couldn't hear a single other noise. The American slowly crept up to the small tub and peered inside.

In the porcelain tub lay Arthur, fully clothed, and surrounded in water a deep, rose-red.

_Water as red as roses._

The small man was curled up on his side in a simple white button-up and some grey pants. They were absolutely soaked.

"…A-arthur?" Alfred stammered, as his heart beat loudly in his chest. He reached down and shook his British friend.

"Arthur?" he whimpered. Then Arthur turned over. At the top of his hairline, just barley being covered by red, blood-crusted golden hair, was a huge, deep gash absolutely coated in blood. It was red and swollen and a small bit of clear, yellow-ish liquid oozed from the wound.

"Oh my god." Alfred whispered and quickly reached inside the small tub to pull Arthur out.

"Arthur…"

The pale blonde sat in the huge white waiting room, his head leaning against his shoulder. His glasses sat perched at the very tip of his nose, about to fall off. His eyes were firmly shut and if you listened closely, you could hear him emitting low murmurs in his restless sleep.

"Alfred Jones?" A short, stout older woman asked, dark purple bags under her bleary eyes. The blonde leapt up out of the uncomfortable chair and fell to the ground.

Quickly straightening himself up and rubbing his bright blue eyes, he answered loudly.

"Uh, that would be me." He murmured, rubbing the back of his neck.

"Could you follow me please?" She asked curtly in her strong British accent.

"How's Arthur doing?" The worried mad said, following at a jog to keep up with the speeding woman.

"Well, it appears he has a horrible fever, which is why he probably fell and cracked his head, since he was delirious and didn't even know what he was doing. Since he must have been in there for probably two days, his wound got infected, since no one could treat him. Also, he had a minor case of hypothermia, since he was in the cold, frigid water for some time."

Alfred just looked wide-eyed at the woman and silently followed her.

She looked up at him. "He's in stable condition now, but he still hasn't regained consciousness. We may have to put him into a medically-induced coma if he doesn't look better soon."

"Oh." Alfred mumbled, not knowing what else to say.

"Would you like to see him?" The woman asked, looking at the blue clipboard in her hands.

Alfred just nodded, since his mouth couldn't form the right words.

The woman sighed and pushed open the thick, tan door. Alfred stumbled inside and paused in front of the clean, white bed. There lay Arthur, a thick, white, bandage wrapped around his forehead. His skin seemed unnaturally pale, and many tubes and wired devices were stuck in his arms and hands.

He looked so weak, so fragile.

The American strode up to the bed and pulled up a chair. He reached out and pulled Arthur's hand to him. He held it tightly as thick, watery tears dripped down his face. His back shook as he held Arthur's hand close to his body.

Thunder rumbled loudly outside the window as the sound of drumming rain beat against the window. Alfred didn't know how long he had been sitting there, just holding Arthur's pale, flimsy hand.

He didn't care about the rain. He didn't care about the time.

He only cared about Arthur.

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><p>AN: Wow. That was hard to write.


	5. Chapter 5

A/N: My family is truly awesome! They just gave me SOOOO many ideas for this story! Yay! Anyway, I had to write, so here ya go! I hope the character's don't seem to OCC…

Water as Red as Roses

Chapter 5

The quiet, light-blonde ban roamed the snowy streets, his light blue-purple eyes scanning the ground. He held a small polar bear in his arms, and hummed quietly to himself.

_It's such a beautiful day. _Matthew sighed, smiling up at the clear blue sky.

_Such a-_

"OH, SAY CAN YOU SEE, BY THE DAWN'S EARLY LIGHT!" The American anthem played loudly, causing Canada to slip and fall in shock. Grumbling, he dusted the snow off his light tan coat, and pulled the blaring phone out of his pocket.

"A-Alfred?" Matthew asked quietly, clutching the light purple phone in his hands.

"Hey Mattie." A dead tone said on the other line.

"Alfred, what's wrong? You sound awf-"

"Its Arthur." Alfred stated bluntly.

"Hm?" The Canadian asked, listening intently to his half-brother.

"Oh my god." He gasped, and dashed down the street, forgetting Kumajiro, his polar bear, in the snow. He called out after the bear.

"Sorry Kumakichi!" He stated.

"Who are you?" The small polar bear asked to the man fading into the distance.

"I'm Canada!" He yelled quietly as he turned the corner.

"What?" A unison of cries yelled.

"W-well, I'm te-telling the truth! England's in a medically induced coma…" The blonde whispered, as the nations all broke out into conversations. France dramatically clutched his hankie and held his chest.

"Ma chérie!" France called out dramatically, causing Canada to roll his eyes.

"I vill board a plane right now to go see my Iggy!" He called, suddenly stopping crying.

"Ah, well, Alfred said no one should go and see him…" The Canadian said, scratching the back of his head.

"Mon Iggy!" Francis called out, not hearing the quiet Canadian.

Matthew sighed and walked out of the room, rubbing his temples. He picked up the phone and dialed Alfred's number.

"Who is this?" Alfred said in his now lifeless voice.

"Uh, Canada." He said, his voice no more than a whisper.

"Who?" The American asked. Matthew sighed.

"Alfred, I'm coming to see you and Arthur. I really just want to get away from everyone…"

"Oh, Mattie. That's cool. Yeah, you can come." Alfred said curtly.

"Okay then. Bye." Matthew sighed and headed out the door into the cold, Canadian snow.

Alfred let his hand fall to his side, his red phone making a low dial tone. He wrapped the blanket tighter around himself and tried to find a more comfortable position in the hard hospital chair provided to him. He had his long legs curled under himself, and he leaned up against the small chair's armrest. His hair was unkempt and dark circles were visible under his eyes. He had a big, blue fleece blanket wrapped tightly around himself.

He had only left Arthur's side a few times. Only when he was forced to. His normally bright eyes seemed dim and dull, as if all the life and happiness had been sucked out of him. Arthur remained unchanged, his body still pale and limp.

The doctor's said that he was doing better, but Alfred couldn't tell.

Alfred heard the faint sound of voices coming down the hallway. But he didn't turn to look. He really didn't care anymore.

The door slowly opened.

"Alfred?" A quiet voice called out. The American didn't move.

"Uh, Alfred?" He asked, walking up to Alfred and Arthur.

"Hm." Alfred murmured, not even turning to look at his half-brother.

"Hey, bro. Look at me." The Canadian said and turned Alfred's face to him.

"Geez Al, you look awful." He said and turned to Arthur.

"Is he…?"

"He hasn't changed." Alfred replied simply, his dead eyes finally breaking away from Arthur to get a good look at Matthew.

Matthew suddenly went up to Alfred and pulled him into a hug.

"Al, don't be like this. Show some life. You're scaring me." He whispered, holding his sibling close. Alfred's eyes softened.

"Okay."


End file.
